


Aftermath

by Stormlyht



Series: This Town That Loves Me [9]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angst?, Derek is Derek, M/M, Miscommunication, This town loves Derek, stiles not so much
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-04-11
Packaged: 2018-01-19 00:29:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,117
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1448662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Stormlyht/pseuds/Stormlyht
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The Alpha Pack has left and Stiles just needs to know that everything's okay.  That shouldn't be hard to do, right?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Aftermath

**Author's Note:**

> Ta Da! I'm posting before I go to work tonight! It's my first night closing and I'm a little nervous, but somehow I managed to write this anyway. Raw, not reading over before I post because OMG, so much to do before work.
> 
> I'm plenty pleased with how this scene turned out even though it wasn't exactly how I'd planned. I hope you all enjoy!
> 
> On another note, the CampNaNo is going well, I'm almost 10k words into the fic and I'm happy with the flow of that one too. I've been reading it to my wife and she's enjoying it, so that's good! It also spurs me on to keep writing, LOL!

“Shit, shit, good, good,” Stiles said, head recognizing that things were okay, but his mouth speaking without filter anyway. “Because you know, I thought maybe we were all dead there, but I guess not. Given that they walked out, why did they walk out?”

His knees suddenly collapsed under him and he was next to Derek, putting his head on Derek’s shoulder. Derek lifted his hand and pulled Stiles’ injured up to inspect.

“You’re an idiot,” Derek said and Stiles growled at him.

“What was I supposed to do? Just stand there with nothing at all?” Stiles asked.

“You were supposed to run,” Erica said, and when Stiles looked over at her she was leaning against Boyd, breathing heavily, blood soaking her clothes. “Or were you deaf?”

“I’m not going to just run,” Stiles said defensively as his fingers curled in Derek’s hand. “I’m not deaf, or an idiot. Running means come and chase me.” All books about predators said so. “I didn’t want them to chase me.”

Derek pulled Stiles into his arms and took a deep breath at the crook of his neck, sending shivers all through Stiles’ body. “They left,” he said, breath hot against Stiles skin.

“Yes, they left, know why?” Isaac said.

“No,” Derek shook his head, and Stiles rewound the conversation in his mind.

“He said you had a mate that he didn’t know about and you would need to talk it over with them first of course. What does that even mean?” Stiles asked. Derek went stiff in his arms and Stiles frowned. “Derek?” he asked, poking him with a bloody finger.

“He was reading into things,” Derek said, pushing Stiles away so forcefully that Stiles fell on his ass.

Staring up at Derek with wide eyes, Stiles glared and said, “Dude, really?” But Derek was walking away from Stiles, going over to Isaac, checking out his wounds before moving on to Boyd.

Stiles looked over at Isaac, who shrugged and hobbled over to the train. Then he looked to Boyd and Erica, both of which were getting a look over from Derek. A very in depth look over. Which apparently included some pain drawing on Derek’s part, which seemed to make the black goo that was falling from Boyd’s wounds turn to regular red. Stiles supposed that was okay, making sure his beta’s were taken care of was good alpha behavior. If he hadn’t just pushed Stiles away that was.

“Derek!” he snapped, and Derek glanced back at him, lifting an eyebrow. “Dude, you pushed me,” Stiles said, waving to his prone body. “Down.”

“Are you incapable of sitting up?” Derek asked.

“No.”

“Are you hurt?” Derek pressed.

“No. Well,” Stiles amended. “Yes,” he waved his bloody hand in the air, and for a moment Derek looked angry, eyes flashing red briefly before he shrugged again and looked away.

“You did that to yourself,” Derek said.

“Really?” Stiles asked, anger rushing through him. He stood up and marched over to Derek, grabbing hold of his shirt and trying to tug Derek around to look at him again. “You’re going to play the “Stiles needed to defend himself and injured himself in the process” card?”

Derek didn’t move, focusing on Erica now, who was looking at Stiles in a mixture of amusement and confusion. Stiles shook Derek’s shirt, blood soaking into the fabric.

“Derek?” Boyd said softly. Derek snapped at him and he shut up instantly.

“You big, obnoxious dog,” Stiles said, dropping the shirt to kick at Derek’s calf, which might have gone better if Derek wasn’t apparently made of stone. His foot throbbed, but Stiles refused to acknowledge the pain. “Don’t you care about me and my misery at all?”

“Of course I do,” Derek said, sighing and looking up at him. “What do you want me to do about it?”

“Bandage? Hydrogen? An, “I’m sorry you got hurt Stiles, are you okay?” maybe?” Was it too much to ask?

“I don’t have bandages or peroxide here, I’m a werewolf who has super healing remember? And I already asked if you were okay.” Derek said.

“No you didn’t,” Stiles said.

“Yes I did,” Derek huffed. Stiles rolled his eyes.

“Do I *look* like someone who doesn’t remember the flow of conversations? You *didn’t* ask if I was okay!”

“Yes I -” Derek started again, but he was caught by the movement of Boyd’s head. The movement that was Boyd shaking his head. Derek frowned. “Didn’t I?”

“No!” Stiles snapped, kicking Derek again. It still didn’t make him feel better. “You didn’t, you big lug.”

“I swear I…” Derek trailed off and looked at Erica.

“No,” she whispered. “You didn’t.”

“Fine,” Stiles said, tossing his hands up in the air and getting blood on his cheek for his efforts. “Obviously I’m not important enough to even care if I’m okay or not. So, since I know *you* are, and since all your beta’s are getting the royal treatment, I’ll just go. Evidently I’m too much to manage on top of everything else.” Stiles turned away from Derek and his stupid eyebrows, his stupid face, his stupid cluelessness, and began walking out. He wasn’t even sure he understood why he was so angry, but he was super pissed. So pissed off, he couldn’t even remember why he had been excited to come down here in the first place.

“Stiles,” Derek said, but Stiles didn’t even want to see him.

“No, no, I’m good, I know how to show myself out.” He waved his hand, not caring that he was splashing blood on the ground. The throbbing was starting to get intense, he’d have to wrap it tight in his jeep, which was fine because he kept a wad of bandages in there for emergencies. He didn’t use to keep bandages for emergencies, but times had certainly changed for him.

“Stiles,” Derek said again, and there was the sound of movement from behind him.

“Don’t,” Stiles whispered tersely. “Just don’t follow me.”

There wasn’t another sound as he left, and when he got out he ran to his jeep, grabbed the bandages and stuffed them onto his hand, clenching his fingers around them painfully. He probably needed stitches, he most likely needed drugs, and maybe a tetanus shot? Stiles wasn’t sure what all he needed, but as his heart hurt, he pressed his forehead to his steering wheel and began crying.

It was stupid, and he’d work through it all later, but for the moment, he just needed to freak out a little. Just for a moment. So he could drive to the hospital and see Mrs. McCall. She’d help him out. She always knew when to ask if he was okay.


End file.
